Metamorphosis
Title: Metamorphosis
Author: Wisia
Disclaimer: Own nothing from DC.
Rating: T
Characters: Tim Drake, Ra’s al Ghul
Summary: From this.
Warnings: Creepy twisted Ra’s and a little straying, but nothing explicit.
Author’s Note: Because this idea wouldn’t leave me alone, and I wanted to write something...well, yeah. And thank Jcolney for looking this over. Such a wonderful, awesome person~ Let me know how it sounds, if you like it or not, characterization and stuff. I hope you enjoy reading.
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Tim groaned. His head was splintering into pieces from the hit that knocked him out, but he forced himself to crack his eyes open. He was blessed by the lack of overtly bright lights although the situation left little to be desired. He had returned to a version of his boy hostage days, and Tim berated himself for getting caught in the first place. That was inexcusable.
The room was small. There was enough light that Tim could see he was in a lab of some sort. A highly sophisticated one for its size as well. Shelves of vials and all sorts of expensive scientific equipment lined the walls. There was, unfortunately, only one entrance. And Tim was bound to a metal table. Naked.
He shivered as the chilly air cut through his headache and brought him to full alertness. The bands holding him down were tight and sturdy. And the only possible way Tim could foresee of getting out of them was to dislocate a few joints and pray he could slip out of them. He braced himself with a deep breath even as the throbbing in the back of his head twinge in protest. But before he could dislocate anything, footsteps sounded with the opening of the lone door, and a smooth baritone voice addressed him.
“Detective,” Ra’s al Ghul half purred. “I hope you have enjoyed your nap. You slept longer than I assumed you would.”
The words sank in heavily, colliding in Tim’s stomach as he tried to remain calm and act as if he wasn't captured by a revenge swearing villain.
“Ra’s,” he hissed out, the latter part of the sound stretching angrily. Okay, not so calm. “What do you want?”
Tim quickly ran through everything he knew about the villain. Twice. Ra’s closed the door with a soft click, locking it, and leisurely crossed the room, a pleased smile forming on his features. Tim had the sudden, unexpected violent urge to rip it off, but he gave into tensing instead as Ra’s bent down, hovering over Tim. Ra’s’ face was smug, uncanny and eerie.
“It is very simple,” Ra’s said. “Would you care to guess?”
Tim glared at him, mind racing through various reasons and scenarios.
“No.”
He flinched as Ra’s ran a finger down his cheek to the jawline, sharp nail scrapping.
“You are very amusing,” Ra’s commented. Tim turned his head away from the finger in disgust. “Though I do object to your singular attack on my league. You have embarrassed me.”
Tim gritted his teeth as Ra’s recaptured his jaw, lightly stroking and undeterred. He shifted his head, biting down hard when the fingers neared his mouth. Ra’s retrieved his fingers with a slight effort, and Tim was satisfied by the bleeding, the coppery taste lingering on his tongue.
“You want revenge,” and Tim was smiling with the blood on his lips. It only seemed to entice Ra’s because the elder man laughed, cold amusement decorating the sound. Ra’s removed a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the blood on his fingers, stalling the lacerations.
“You are truly highly amusing,” Ra’s murmured, and he folded his handkerchief to a clean square. Tim was surprised as Ra’s wiped the blood off his lips and chin. “I did think of revenge, but it would be a shame, especially as you have passed all my tests.”
His eyes roamed across Tim’s form, and Tim suppressed the urge to curl up as he considered Ra’s’ words. Tests. Was something compromised? His mind only turned up blanks.
A smirk tugged at the corners of Ra’s’ mouth. “You may ask, Detective. I promise to answer. I intend for you to know in any case.”
“What tests?” Tim asked testily, giving in. He had the distinct impression he was playing into Ra’s’ hand blindly, but the current route was the best option as it was.
“I am in need of an heir,” Ra’s informed him, eyes sharp and predatory. They traversed Tim’s skin a second time in a slippery study of angles, scars and pale flesh. Tim couldn’t hide the goosebumps spiking on his skin, a slow fear settling in, as Ra’s drew out his next words. “I would have one of mine take your seed, but…I found that to be an utter waste. Completely unreliable as well. It would not do to have waste where you are concerned.”
And Ra’s forced Tim to look at him, fingers firm on Tim’s jaw to keep from a second biting. He lowered his face closer to Tim’s. “Are you aware of just how fair and white your skin is? Detective?”
His breath coasted into a whisper into Tim’s ear, and Tim jerked, head smacking the metal bed. A groan fell out of his lips at the further aggravation of the likely concussion he had, and Ra’s slid his other hand into Tim’s hair. Tim’s fear shot up exponentially at the action.
Ra’s wanted him. In that manner.
“Careful,” Ra’s hummed softly, fingers teasing the hair at Tim's nape. “It would not do to have you injured.”
“You’re sick,” Tim spat out, unable to control the hammering in his chest. He wriggled, back pressing into the cold surface beneath him. “Don’t you dare touch me.”
“I do not sleep with men,” Ra’s reproached with a frown, offended. And Tim would have breathed a sigh of relief from escaping that fate, but Ra’s’ next words came slithering wrapped in a foreboding intent. “I do sleep with women, and even with all your scars, you are more than adequate.”
Ra’s released Tim’s chin, his hand dragging down to Tim’s chest. A wave of revulsion swept through Tim as the elder man’s icy fingers caressed deliberately. A deeper full fledged fear drenched Tim as Ra’s continued to touch scars, moving downward. He twisted, moving only as much as the bands would give.
“You will make a fine woman,” Ra’s continued triumphantly. Tim yanked and pulled and strained against his manacles as Ra’s stepped back, admiring.
“Y-you can’t do that!” Tim stuttered, voice high. He watched as Ra’s reached into a drawer. Tim swore and broke the joints in his right hand, blood dripping at the open fractures created when he freed it with a second crunching. He was barely conscious of the pain as he scrabbled to pry the manacle off his other hand. He had to get out.
“Ahh,” Tim gasped as Ra’s’ hand closed in on his broken one, crushing.
“You are beautiful when you struggle,” and Tim was horrified as Ra’s delivered a kiss to the hand, licking and sucking the red substance off one finger. He couldn’t draw his hand back in the unforgiving grip.
“Let go of me!”
Tim tried desperately to retrieve his hand, and he was too aware of the prick of needle as Ra’s smashed his lips onto his.
“Never,” Ra’s whispered. The two haunting syllables followed Tim into unconsciousness.
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Tim couldn’t make sense of anything as he drifted in and out. He had the appalling sense that something was off. Something was important, that he should be doing. But everything burned. It coursed through his body, and he was never sure if he was awake or asleep. The only thing he knew for certain was that someone was stroking his hair. Every now and then, he would feel the gesture between random sights and sounds of metal, blood and bone. And he had the hazy image of green bubbly liquid that stung and corrode, but that disappeared with a touch. Fingers, ice cold, were sifting through his locks again in a continuous soothing motion. He tried to lean into it, but he felt too weak. They were the only thing that seemed to bring a measure of comfort.
The fingers obliged him, anticipating, and Tim thought it must be Dick because only Dick would do that. He wondered when they found him. Saved him.
“Dick,” he tried to say, but it slurred on his tongue. He wanted to say thanks.
“Shh…don’t try to talk,” a voice low and not Dick whispered. Tim would have tried to protest, but he felt so tired and the fingers just kept stroking and stroking, rhythmic and steady. So, Tim nodded or at least he attempted to. It’ll be okay when he woke up. He was home. And the fingers still went on, gliding through his hair.
The next time Tim woke, it was to the pain scorching through his body and the scent of Jasmine, light and delicate in the air. That was strange to Tim because the manor never smelled like that, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Alfred could do whatever he wanted.
His body felt heavy, and Tim couldn’t open his eyes even if he wanted to. He was in a state of malaise, and everything was sore. A numbing constant ache. It bore deep into his bones and left Tim huddling for relief. And he felt hot, so hot that he was suffocating. Tim could feel the sheets tangled in his legs and arms. He tried to move, but he only succeeded in making noises of discomfort. The heat was cloistering, and he would have panicked but the heat evaporated suddenly.
The sheets around Tim were loosened and pushed away, cool air rushing to his body. There was a dip in the bed, and Tim was dimly aware of someone lifting him. His back rested against someone’s chest, and Tim whimpered as someone pressed what felt like a wet cloth to his forehead. Must be Dick, he thought. Or Alfred who prepared it. He relished the sensation and sighed appreciatively. Tim was going to need to do something big for Dick in return.
“My songbird, my detective,” a voice rippled into Tim’s ear heatedly, “if I could have you every single day like so I would.”
Ra’s. The name streaked through Tim’s dulled mind. Like a slicing gale, the memories cut ruthlessly into Tim’s drowsiness. His eyes snapped open to find himself nestled snugly against the villain.
“Ra’s,” Tim croaked out, throat raw and rusty. He couldn’t move his body, and he wasn’t home. Tim stared at the other man’s face, disorientated and vision swimming slightly.
“Ah, you are finally awake,” Ra’s noted calmly. He removed the cloth from Tim’s forehead. “I was worried that the changes were too much.”
As Tim’s vision cleared, a sinking feeling gutted his stomach, and he tried to sort out what happened.
“You…”
Tim bit the inside of his cheek and propelled himself out of Ra’s’ embrace with what little energy he had. He stumbled onto the floor, and his muscles protested the sudden shock. Tim struggled to stand, unbalanced, and Ra’s tucked his arms around him. Supporting.
“You are not yet recovered, Timothy.”
And Tim was afraid. To look down. To see what Ra’s did.
“No, you didn’t…” He couldn’t voice the act that Ra’s hinted at.
“Did you not believe me?” Ra’s asked. He returned them to the bed, placing Tim on his back. Then, he lay on his side, pressing straight against Tim. “You will learn I deliver what I promised. And most certainly, promises for you.”
Ra’s picked up a strand of Tim’s hair, twining it around his index. “Long hair is becoming on you, though these are mere extensions.”
Tim felt sick. It was Ra’s’ fingers combing through his hair. And Ra’s’ fingers he enjoyed. And Ra’s’ fingers the entire time. The fingers continued to card, and it nearly lulled Tim into complacency even as disturbing as it was. He wouldn’t allow it.
“I will escape.” His eyes met Ra’s’ stubbornly. When he recovered. “You can’t keep me here forever.”
“And if you cannot?” Ra’s wondered, still toying with the fake locks.
“They will come for me,” Tim answered firmly. Dick wouldn’t abandon him. Bruce would notice, and Kon-he could hear everything.
Ra’s chuckled. “Do you really think that?”
His voice dropped, and Tim could hear the mockery in the words.
“I do,” Tim asserted. They wouldn’t fail him. “They will find me.”
Sympathy lined Ra’s’s face in an instant, and Tim had the feeling he was missing something.
“What?”
“My poor dear,” Ra’s sighed. He released Tim’s hair, hand going to Tim’s neck and onward to chest. Tim followed it reluctantly, finally noting the physical changes made. His stomach churned as he catalogued the breasts-his breasts-moving up and down beneath the white fabric with each intake and outtake of air. If it wasn’t so dire, Tim would have snorted. Ra’s would put him in a snow white virgin gown.
He startled when Ra’s palmed one breast, resting on the foreign mound.
“Ra’s,” Tim warned, uneasy. “I will cut off your hand if you don’t remove it.”
“You are still recovering,” Ra’s responded.
“Now, tell me,” he commanded. “Do you know what day it is?”
Tim swallowed hard. A corner of his mind chimed anxiously. Ra’s enjoyed playing games.
“No,” he answered carefully. “I don’t see why that matters.”
Ra’s tut-ted at him, hand squeezing Tim’s breast gently. “This took time.”
Tim shoved the hand off.
“It took eight long weeks, but the results are magnificent.”
The hand returned, but Tim was too disconcerted to deal with it. “Eight weeks?”
It wasn’t possible. He couldn’t have been captive more than a few days. There was no way that much time could have passed.
Ra’s’ mouth curled up thoughtfully. “I do not suppose you would remember it through your bouts of delirium and sleep. Though you did enjoy my touch. Your change was tedious. Did you know it required two weeks of testing and experimentation alone to obtain a viable womb?”
Tim shuddered as Ra’s lightly picked up Tim’s arm and pushed back the sleeve, abandoning his breast. The skin was unmarred. Tim’s eyes widened in disbelief.
“Tell me you did not put me in the pit!”
He clutched at Ra’s’s shirt. How was he going to face Bruce? After he was caught? And oh god, was he going to lose his mind? Ra’s pried Tim’s fingers off. “I am not so uncouth. I am well aware of your feelings on the matter. I merely used a mixture that contained two parts of the water.”
Tim seethed. “Ra’s, I will-“
Ra’s stopped Tim with a press of a finger to the lips. His eyes were dark as he said, “the more important question is why. It has been eight weeks, and no one-Batman or whoever-has come.”
Tim stilled. It was just a psychologically tactic. To get him to doubt.
“You’re lying. They wouldn’t leave me here.”
He refused to believe that. He could count on them.
“Is that so?” Ra’s leaned in. And Tim couldn’t get rid of the thoughts of being forgotten, unwanted and…
“Let me tell you something, my dear detective. I do not think they even know you are gone from the nest.”
Tim trembled, and Ra’s ran his fingers through his hair once more.
“You are like a butterfly, ethereal and exquisite after a rest in silk threads. And you are mine.”
Whisper